#salvation story

[truths33k3r4]

List five things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last ten people who liked or reblogged something from you! Get to know your followers, mutuals, and all the wonderful people on here! :D (feel free to ignore)

AWW POET!!!!! <3 Thank you so much for this ask!!!

It's always imperative to remember the blessings God has given to us in our lives <3

My salvation. ~ Jesus Christ died on the cross for my sins. He suffered so much pain, so much heartache, so much TORTURE. And He did it for me. He died for me so He could save me from my black heart. I will never be able to repay Him. I will never be able to thank Him enough. But what I CAN do, is thank Him for what He has done in my life and in my heart. <3

My friends. ~ All the connections I have made with people like me here. People who love TMNT, art, animating, writing stories, and so much more. People who have supported me, encouraged me, and guided me with my art, comic dubs, and story. <3

WRITING!! ~ Only until I started writing my journal did I see how much I enjoyed being an author. And then years later, here I am writing a TMNT Fan Story, "the Strength in Weakness". It's been challenging at times, but OH SO MUCH FUN TO MAKE. And so many people, my family, friends, and you, @poetique823, have listened to my ranting on it, critiqued my chapters and helped me better them, and supported me all the way. :) SO thank you <3

* breathes deeply * ...... CCCCCCHOOOCCCCOOOLLLLLAAAAAATTTTTTTEEEEEE

Having a cup of warm English Breakfast Tea on a cold morning, wrapped up in my cozy bathrobe, and typing away chatting with a friend. :)

Thanks for this ask, Poet!!! It was really nice to sit and think about these things.

~ Melissa

[duduyet]

51% and 49%

[mryddinwyllt]

ORV : 217/219 | 187

[vyph2001]

[ORV side story] Ep.22. Name (4)

Support me a coffee if you love my artwork!

[shika1864]

I wonder,

[freyadragonlord]

Tragic silly brothers make me think of this

[fincholeander]

The Kim Dokja household

[anethiawoods]

playing slay the princess as intended (watching your friend stream it and then roleplaying as improvised ocs for each of ur runs)

[carenlin]

...of my desperation and my rising anger

lhh&dkos

[ashenchi]

[fictionadventurer]

My sister just mentioned the story our bishop told, about a woman who went to St. John Vianney after her husband committed suicide by jumping from a bridge, and she was beside herself because she knew he had to be in hell, and John Vianney told her, "Between the bridge and the water is the mercy of God."

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 61

Chapter; Highlights (okay the entire chapter is a highlight)🤣

As requested @mysterylilycheeta I NEED TO SQUEAL IN WYVERN FANGIRL WITH YOU NOW CAUSE OH M GOODNESS THIS CHAPTER ON SO MANY LEVELS I JUST AHAKWIHUHFEJLZXBKEKA

Agony was a song in Lorcan's blood, his bones, his breath.

Every step of the horse, every leap she made over body and debris, sent it ringing afresh. There was no end, no mercy from it. It was all he could do to keep in the saddle, to cling to consciousness.

To keep his arm around Elide.

She had come for him. Had found him, somehow, on this endless battlefield.

His name on her lips had been a summons he could never deny, even when death had held him so gently, nestled beneath all those he'd felled, I, and waited for his last breaths.

And now, charging toward that too-distant keep, so far behind the droves of soldiers and riders racing for the gates, he wondered if these minutes would be his last. Her last.

She had come for him.

Lorcan managed to glance toward the dam on their right. Toward the ruk rider signaling that it was only a matter of minutes until it unleashed hell over the plain.

He didn't know how it had become weakened. Didn't care.

Still Elide kept urging the horse onward, kept them on as straight a path toward the distant keep as possible.

No ruk would come to sweep them up. No, his luck had been spent in surviving this long, in her finding him. His power would do nothing against that water.

The farthest lines of panicked soldiers appeared, and Farasha charged past them.

Elide let out a sob, and he followed the line of her sight.

To the keep gate, still open.

"Faster, Farasha!" She didn't hide the raw terror in her voice, the desperation.

Once the dam broke, it would take less than a minute for the tidal wave to reach them.

She had come for him. She had found him.

The world went quiet. The pain in his body faded into nothing. Into something secondary.

Lorcan slid his other arm around Elide, bringing his mouth close to her ear as he said, "You have to let me go."

Each word was gravelly, his voice strained nearly to the point of uselessness.

Elide didn't shift her focus from the keep ahead. "No."

That gentle quiet flowed around him, clearing the fog of pain and battle. "You have to. You have to, Elide. I'm too heavy-and without my weight, you might make it to the keep in time."

"No." The salt of her tears filled his nose.

Lorcan brushed his mouth over her damp cheek, ignoring the roaring pain in his body. The horse galloped and galloped, as if she might outrace death itself.

"I love you," he whispered in Elide's ear. "I have loved you from the moment you picked up that axe to slay the ilken." Her tears flowed past him in the wind. "And I will be with you ..." His voice broke, but he made himself say the words, the truth in his heart. "I will be with you always."

He was not frightened of what would come for him once he tumbled off the horse. He was not frightened at all, if it meant her reaching the keep.

So Lorcan kissed Elide's cheek again, allowed himself to breathe in her scent one last time. "I love you," he repeated, and began to withdraw his arms from around her waist.

Elide slapped a hand onto his forearm. Dug in her nails, right into his skin, fierce as any ruk.

"No."

There were no tears in her voice. Nothing but solid, unwavering steel.

"No," she said again. The voice of the Lady of Perranth.

Lorcan tried to move his arm, but her grip would not be dislodged.

If he tumbled off the horse, she would go with him.

Together. They would either outrun this or die together.

"Elide-"

But Elide slammed her heels into the horse's sides.

Slammed her heels into the dark flank and screamed, "FLY, FARASHA." She cracked the reins. "FLY, FLY, FLY!"

And gods help her, that horse did.

As if the god that had crafted her filled the mare's lungs with his own breath, Farasha gave a surge of speed.

Faster than the wind. Faster than death.

Farasha cleared the first of the fleeing Darghan cavalry. Passed desperate horses and riders at an all-out gallop for the gates.

Her mighty heart did not falter, even when Lorcan knew it was raging to the point of bursting.

Less than a mile stood between them and the keep.

But a thunderous, groaning crack cleaved the world, echoing off the lake, the mountains.

There was nothing he could do, nothing that brave, unfaltering horse could do, as the dam ruptured.

Rowan made himself stand there, to watch the last moments of the Lady of Perranth and his former commander. It was all he could offer: witnessing their deaths, so he might tell the story to those he encountered. So they would not be forgotten.

The roaring of the oncoming wave became deafening, even from miles away.

Still Elide and Lorcan raced, Farasha passing horse after horse after horse.

Even up here, would they escape the wave's reach? Rowan dared to survey the battlements, to assess if he needed to get the others, needed to get Aelin, to higher ground.

But Aelin was not at his side.

She was not on the battlement at all.

Rowan's heart halted. Simply stopped beating as a ruddy-brown ruk dropped from the skies, spearing for the center of the plain.

Arcas, Borte's ruk. A golden-haired woman dangling from his talons.

Aelin. Aelin was—

Arcas neared the earth, talons splaying.

Aelin hit the ground, rolling, rolling, until she uncoiled to her feet.

Right in the path of that wave.

"Oh gods," Fenrys breathed, seeing her, too.

They all saw her.

The queen on the plain.

The endless wall of water surging for her.

The keep stones began shuddering. Rowan threw out a hand to brace himself, fear like nothing he had known ripping through him as Aelin lifted her arms above her head.

A pillar of fire shot up around her, lifting her hair with it.

The wave roared and roared for her, for the army behind her.

The shaking in the keep was not from the wave.

It was not from that wall of water at all.

Cracks formed in the earth, splintering across it. Spiderwebbing from Aelin.

"The hot springs," Chaol breathed. "The valley floor is full of veins into the earth itself."

Into the burning heart of the world.

The keep shook, more violently this time.

The pillar of fire sucked back into Aelin.

She held out a hand before her, her fist closed.

As if it would halt the wave in its tracks.

He knew then. Either as her mate or carranam, he knew.

"Three months," Rowan breathed.

The others stilled.

"Three months," he said again, his knees wobbling. "She's been making the descent into her power for three months."

Every day she had been with Maeve, bound in iron, she had gone deeper. And she had not tapped too far into that power since they'd freed her because she had kept making the plunge.

To gather up the full might of her magic.

Not for the Lock, not for Erawan.

But for Maeve's death blow.

A few weeks of descent had taken her powers to devastating levels. Three months of it

…

Holy gods. Holy rutting gods.

And when her fire hit the wall of water now towering over her, when they collided —

"GET DOWN!" Rowan bellowed, over the screaming waters. "GET DOWN NOW!"

His companions dropped to the stones, any within earshot doing the same.

Rowan plummeted into his power. Plummeted into it fast and hard, ripping out any remaining shred of magic.

Elide and Lorcan were still too far from the gates. Thousands of soldiers were still too far from the gates as the wave crested above them.

As Aelin opened her hand toward it.

Fire erupted.

Cobalt fire. The raging soul of a flame.

A tidal wave of it.

Taller than the raging waters, it blasted from her, flaring wide.

The wave slammed into it. And where water met a wall of fire, where a thousand years of confinement met three months of it, the world exploded.

Blistering steam, capable of melting flesh from bone, shot across the plain.

With a roar, Rowan threw all that remained of his magic toward the onslaught of steam, a wall of wind that shoved it toward the lake, the mountains.

Still the waters came, breaking against the flames that did not so much as yield an inch.

Maeve's death blow. Spent here, to save the army that might mean Terrasen's salvation. To spare the lives on the plain.

Rowan gritted his teeth, panting against his fraying power. A burnout lurked, deadly close.

The raging wave threw itself over and over and over into the wall of flame.

Rowan didn't see if Elide and Lorcan made it into the keep. If the other soldiers and riders on the plain stopped to gape.

Princess Hasar said, rising beside him, "That power is no blessing."

"Tell that to your soldiers," Fenrys snarled, standing, too.

"I did not mean it that way," Hasar snipped, and awe was indeed stark on her face.

Rowan leaned against the battlements, panting hard as he fought to keep the lethal steam from flowing toward the army. As he cooled and sent it whisking away.

Solid hands slid under his arms, and then Fenrys and Gavriel were there, propping him up between them.

A minute passed. Then another.

The wave began to lower. Still the fire burned.

Rowan's head pounded, his mouth going dry.

Time slipped from him. A coppery tang filled his mouth.

The wave lowered farther, raging waters quieting. Then roaring turned to lapping, rapids into eddies.

Until the wall of flame began to lower, too. Tracking the waters down and down and down. Letting them seep into the cracks of the earth.

Rowan's knees buckled, but he held on to his magic long enough for the steam to lessen.

For it, too, to be calmed.

It filled the plain, turning the world into drifting mist. Blocking the view of the queen in its center.

Then silence. Utter silence.

Fire flickered through the mist, blue turning to gold and red. A muted, throbbing glow.

Rowan spat blood onto the battlement stones, his breath like shards of glass in his throat.

The glowing flames shrank, steam rippling past. Until there was only a slim pillar of fire, veiled in the mist-shrouded plain.

Not a pillar of fire.

But Aelin.

Glowing white-hot. As if she had given herself so wholly to the flame that she had become fire herself.

The Fire-Bringer someone whispered down the battlements.

The mist rippled and billowed, casting her into nothing but a glowing effigy.

The silence turned reverent.

A gentle wind from the north swept down. The veil of mist pulled back, and there she was.

She glowed from within. Glowed golden, tendrils of her hair floating on a phantom wind.

"Mala's Heir," Yrene breathed.

Down on the plain, Elide and Lorcan had halted.

The wind pushed away more of the drifting mist, clearing the land beyond Aelin.

And where that mighty, lethal wave had loomed, where death had charged toward them, nothing remained at all.

For three months, she had sung to the darkness and the flame, and they had sung back.

For three months, she had burrowed so deep inside her power that she had plundered undiscovered depths. While Maeve and Cairn had worked on her, she had delved. Never letting them know what she mined, what she gathered to her, day by day by day.

A death blow. One to wipe a dark queen from the earth forever.

She'd kept that power coiled in herself even after she'd been freed from the irons. Had struggled to keep it down these weeks, the strain enormous. Some days, it had been easier to barely speak. Some days, swaggering arrogance had been her key to ignoring it.

Yet when she had seen that wave, when she had seen Elide and Lorcan choosing death together, when she had seen the army that might save Terrasen, she'd known. She'd felt the fire sleeping under this city, and knew they had come here for a reason.

She had come here for this reason.

A river still flowed from the dam, harmless and small, wending toward the lake.

Nothing more.

Aelin lifted a glowing hand before her as blessed, cooling emptiness filled her at last.

Slowly, starting from her fingertips, the glow faded.

As if she were forged anew, forged back into her body.

Back into Aelin.

Clarity, sharp and crystal clear, filled its wake. As if she could see again, breathe again.

Inch by inch, the golden glow faded into skin and bone. Into a woman once more.

Already, a white-tailed hawk launched skyward.

But as the last of the glow faded, disappearing out through her toes, Aelin fell to her knees.

Fell to her knees in the utter silence of the world, and curled onto her side.

She had the vague sense of strong, familiar arms scooping her up. Of being carried onto a broad feathery back, still in those arms.

Of soaring through the skies, the last of the mist rippling away into the afternoon sun.

And then sweet darkness.

[gofancyninjaworld]

Call Him Janus-ide, The Way He's Two-Faced

With the kind permissions of Rayadraws and theOmnicode. Bless your sharp eyes.

Genos better have a birthday in January. January, Janus's month, is typically portrayed as a two-faced man, representing the month's position as the end of an old year and the beginning of a new one. Janus is the god of thresholds, places of transition -- inside to out, holy to profane, beginnings to endings. Beyond that, this is the god of duality, seemingly opposed items that nevertheless form part of a whole.

Characters in OPM start really simple but as ONE keeps layering on them, they become more than initially meets the eye. However, when it comes to duality, Genos has to be the most dual-natured character there.

How? Well, let's count the ways.

1. What's in a name?

Let's start with the low-hanging fruit, his name. While he generally goes by Genos, his name is really Genocide. Yes, as in the systematic elimination of a group of people identified by their religion, ethnicity, or just by happening to encumber some valuable land without the benefit of sufficiently heavy weaponry. It's just about possible to pretend not to see it when it's written out on his clothing; however, when Kuseno makes Genos a virtual practice tool called The Virtual Genocide System, what kind of sick fucker does this is all one can say.

Extra credit: if you want another horrifying duality, look up 'ketsugo'.

It gets a little more interesting when we look at how his name is written in Japanese, for that's where the duality emerges. On the one hand, the kanji means 'great slaughter', so far, so unsurprising. On the other hand, it also means 'to fight fiercely to the end', and the image of undaunted resistance in the face of impossible odds is just as fitting to this character as is his surviving a massacre -- and warning of yet another to come.

2. Fire Worship

Of necessity, Genos is forged in fire. The metal that makes up much of his body must be grubbed up as ore, melted out of it, refined, alloyed, smelted, and worked to produce something useful, all of which requires fire. The parts that are plastic are drawn out of the Earth as crude oil, distilled (more fire), admixed, reacted, processed. And the parts that are ceramic, well, nothing loves fire as much as a ceramic. And yet, that's not all Genos is. He is a cyborg, which means that he is also human, someone living, fragile, and yet resilient. We see many cyborgs in One-Punch Man, but someone like Genos, who is very comfortable owning his humanity *and* having a mostly mechanical body, is rare. The cyborgs we meet tend to either hide the fact or double down on being inhuman.

Being happy being both man and machine, no matter how weird it looks to anyone.

Speaking of fire, Genos's choice of weapon is just as dual-natured as his name. In the first instance, he burns things. It's little wonder that fire used to be regarded (gotta love those Greeks) as one of the four essential elements: its ability to transform is fundamental to humanity. Its ability to transform the merely edible to the cooked literally enabled human development by freeing up more calories than are normally available in food. Fire warms; fire razes; fire drives away darkness; fire propels; fire impedes; fire cauterizes; fire burns; fire refines; fire smelts; fire consumes. Wherever you find humanity, something is burning. One hopes in a controlled way.

As Genos uses it as a weapon, it's very much the destructive aspect of fire we see him use. The Hero Association calls him Demon Cyborg because they hope he keeps turning those flames onto enemies of humanity, thankyouverymuch.

Like the fire of Hell striking the sinful and consuming them utterly, Genos showing the utter destruction that got him his hero name.

Of course, we have long since moved beyond burning dry sticks and lumps of coal to make what we call fire. Which takes us quite naturally to the third thing.

3. Core matters

Want to divide a crowd of well-educated people? Just ask them their opinion on 'nuclear energy.' Whether it's energy liberated by splitting or fusing atoms, do we like it for its ability to create an eye-watering amount of energy from incredibly little material, live in awe of its ability to destroy enemies, dread its capacity to maim and mutate with the ionizing radiation that comes as part of the package deal, or fear its eon-long tail of contamination? To say 'views differ' is to understate the heat of the debate.

There may have been a time when Genos's core was battery-powered, but since his energy demands have gone from extreme to extortionate, this baby is nuclear. With all the hazards inherent.

Heroes are just built different: instead of running away, they're like 'keep it together, man.'

So far, so obvious. However, the visual references of the core are even more interesting. Via Rayadraws, the reference of the core is the guidance system of intercontinental ballistic missiles. Entirely mechanical (and thus not able to be interfered with remotely), it ensures that the ICBM, once launched, will absolutely hit its target without fail. A very fitting device for the heart of a character hell-bent on finding and destroying his sworn enemy, whatever the cost.

Doesn't that look ominously familiar? Mutually-assured destruction.

However (I use this word a lot, don't I?), that's not the only way to see the core. When Saitama brought back Genos's core from the future and the latter plugged it in, the core is seen from a different angle, and it's another powerful symbol: a vajra (h/t Omnicode). In Buddhism, it's a ritual weapon symbolizing the properties of a diamond (indestructibility) and a thunderbolt (irresistible force).

A much more positive image: one of power, wisdom, and enlightenment. The more positive version of what he's seeking.

Probably the most interesting thing about the school of Buddhism this comes from is that it's about transmuting vices into virtues. Again, incredibly fitting.

4. So, Where is ONE going with this?

Here we have it. Nominatively, Genos names both the most hideous crime against humanity and the strength of character to resist such crime. Physically, Genos stands at the nexus of man and machine, happily occupying the liminal space between them. The power Genos has sought can be incredibly destructive to both friend and foe... and we've seen him use it to do great good. We've seen how harsh and cold he can be, but we've seen, too, that when he cares to temper his strict pursuit of justice with empathy, something wonderful comes to light.

But most of all, this is a character whose fate rests on a knife edge of apparently small decisions. No matter what, Genos is not going to be dissuaded from finding and destroying the rampaging cyborg and anyone who may have supported him. The question is: will that quest bring great destruction, or is there a way to bring something positive out of it? Either is equally possible with this guy.

We just have to wait and see.

PS: Yes, there are other dualities I could name. I'm hoping y'all come up with them. :D

[animalsalvationassociation]

Hiiiii... 👀 may I know how Emma and kwazii met?? Their backstory kinda seems interesting to me ^^

Well uh . . . You could say they had help 😅

[ Part 1 ]

Mama Samara may have had a hand or two in their meeting.

[ DO NOT REPOST, ALL ART & CONCEPTS WERE MADE BY ME ]

Illustration Time: 7hrs 47min

SOMEONE ACTUALLY ASKED!!! 😭😭😭💙💙💙

Sorry I left your ask untouched for so long! Lots of things going on but thank you dear @octofanlady14 I’m happy someone is interested in their relationship! Even if it’s a silly little ship that exists only in my AU.

Poor Kwazii doesn’t understand while Barnacles has to endure the secondhand embarrassment. This family is so dramatic, aren’t they?

[ Asks Are Open! ]

(Please realize that I am a human being with a busy life so if I don’t get to your asks immediately it doesn’t necessarily mean I’m ignoring it! It may be a situation where I just haven’t gotten to it! Please be kind and courteous, I’m just a wee little lass!)

[ This is a Octonauts AU, in no way is this canon to the OG storyline. ]

[vyph2001]

[ORV side story] Ep.25.4

Support me a coffee if you love my artwork!

[funkylilomen]

an AU where Jupiter and Arche share a meal, and nothing bad happens whatsoever

...ignore Arche's expression. they're fine

lyrics from dis song 👇👇